Memories of the Heartless
by Nuky
Summary: What happens when a curious girl accidentally get stuck between the past and the present? What happens when something behind the gate starts to linger and breaks free? I know stupid summary, just try it out. It won’t harm you. At least I hope not.
1. Dug up the burden

**So ****this is my first Sweeney Todd fiction. I watched the movie a few hours ago and a idea popped up in my head. I'm not sure where it's going I just needed to put it online before I changed my mind. Enjoy, **

**Chapter 1)**** Dug up the burden**

Her dad told her to keep quite, don't touch a thing and stay in place. Therefore she was wondering through the antique store, humming along a song from her Ipod and touched practically every piece of old, ebony wood. The store was smelly, little hints of all the ages.

She wasn't all that interested in the antique. It wasn't her thing, she was to young and to 'shallow' to understand the true meaning of value. At least, that was what her dad told her. He didn't understand she _did_ care, just not on the same level. She blamed it on the generation gap. She had her _Ipod,_ he preferred listening to his dusty record-player. He was the past, she was the future.

Innocently she eyed inside a closet and sneezed when the dust tickled her nose. She huffed and closed the door. 'Why does anyone like to hang around here the entire afternoon?' She rolled her eyes when she heard her dad brag against the salesman. 'Why does it have to be in the me-time?' She staggered further into the store, snooping around. Curiosity lay in her nature. Brought her more then once into trouble. Still, curiosity, wasn't that the way human developed?

She shrugged. 'O well, dad better hurry. I don't think I will be able to deal with this old trash for the next two weeks.'

Hundred curious eyes pierced into hers when she stared into a broken mirror. Her fingertips gently brushed over the gaps, tiny splinters pressing back. She wondered why such a broken piece of rubbish had to stand there. Her fingers run over the smooth sides of the mirror, even the wood seemed torn. Old, broken, unfixable. _Rubbish_.

She sniffed and rubbed her nose. The store really smelled, badly. The ages of London seemed to relive by air, breathing it in, breathing it out. A quick smell of history.

She moved through a hall filled with old paintings. The frames where dusted, the gold no longer glittered. It lost it's value under layers. A shame really. The people on the paintings where from long, long ago. With wigs, awfully dolled up dresses that cost the women to lock there breath away. The man looked cold, rich but not wise.

She stuck out her tongue and sniggered, continuing her exploration. It ended quickly, a closed door.

But that had never stopped her before. After a quick peek over her shoulder she pulled the handle down and lingered into darkness. The smell hit her in the face and revolted she covered her nose with her sleeve. Her hand run over the wall, in search for a switch. Which she found after a few moment in the awkward darkness.

She switched the lights on, thrilled with wonder whatever might be there.

As the lights brightened her vision her wide smile disappeared. There was nothing more in the room then equipment to fancy up wood and polish it. In racks against the walls where bottles with turpentine, lacquer and all kinds of paint. In the middle of the chaotic work environment stood the shop owners last masterpiece to fix.

A old barbers chair, including a foot frame and the leather elbow rests. Or was it?

Carefully she came closer, giving the chair a better look.

She run over the head of the lion, carved out of both the sides. It felt cold, colder then the air outside.

Another quick peek over her shoulder, worried her dad might caught her doing something stupid as snooping around. Curiosity roared victory again. She touched the seat and the material felt softer then leather. 'Velvet maybe?' She giggled softly, she felt like Sherlock Holmes. Getting further sucked into the role of detective she stepped on the foot frame and gently sat down on the chair. The first few seconds where in discomfort, from the fact of sitting on something with probably high market value.

But the soft material seemed to welcome her, glad someone finally noticed it. She sat back and relaxed, closed her eyes for a spare moment.

Her hands where curled around the lion head's seemed to get numb, as from touching something frozen. As her neck did too, feeling the soft material lingered for her warmth. This strange feeling drained back some worry.

She sat up and rubbed the back of her neck, trying to stop the shivers from running down her back.

_Drip, drip_. Her lips parted slightly. Was something leaking? Focusing where the tiny sound came from she looked around.

Then tiny needles seemed to pierced into her skin. Quickly she withdraw her hand from her neck and her eyes grew huge.

From her fingertips, down her elbow leaked blood. Thick, crimson blood run down her wrist as she been cut by a butchers knife. Unable to make a sound she held both her arms out. Both her left as her right seemed to been cut open in matter of seconds. Bleeding, red, blood, dripping, seeping, running. But no matter how good she looked she couldn't find the cuts. No cuts, just blood. So much blood.

The cold took her breath away, piercing through he neck as a knife. Panicked she grabbed her throat, coughing and gagging. Her blood run cold, while thick drips rained down on the affected velvet. Even when she fought to breath she noticed how tiny bits covert the velvet and turned it crimson. It seemed to be everywhere, pouring down, slowly dripping on the floor, creating a pool.

The smell was overwhelming, strong and everywhere. And it was _everywhere_, in the few moments that had passed since she sat down the red liquid seemed to be _everywhere_. She saw, breathed and tasted it.

Hurling she coughed, hunched forward but wasn't able to get up. She squeezed her eyes very tight, hoping everything would be back to normal when she opened them again.

Tears run down her cheeks. Or where they? She slid jaw over her shoulder, a red line leaving behind.

'I cry blood?!' With that finally thought she opened her mouth and started let out a hysterical scream.

.-.-.

**So, uhm.. what do you think? I know I need a beta and that the spelling is bad, but please try to look through that. I would like to get some feedback, thanks.**

**Nuky**


	2. And still talking

**Okay, I'm so lazy. No, I say that incorrect, I just love Depp to much. Therefore I make a little crossover with Secret Window. I just needed a writer with a good look. It's not about Secret window or anything, it's just his look and maybe a bit of his character. Sorry, if this makes me look very Mary-Sueish. **

**Chapter 2) And still talking. **

"Dad I'm telling you I'm not making anything up!" She pleated on the backseat with her knees up to her chest.

"Dinah I'm not having this discussion with you!" Her father snapped back, his eyes on the icy road. Another thing that tormented her other then rainy London. The cold, she hated cold. She'd be the first one to step outside with gloves and a winter coat.

"You had absolutely no right to be there in the first place! What if you had broke something! Do you know how valuable all those things are. Do you think I'm not working hard enough?!"

She knew better to hook into that discussion. Her father was a writer and was now writing some kind of novel about London. The piles and piles of research he had to read through. She would go crazy if she had to read that all. She didn't like reading anyway. No, she really wasn't anything _like _her dad. First of all her figure, her dad was kinda small not even sic feet high. She on the other hand had her mom's figure, long and slender. Not even fourteen and already outgrowing her dad. Well almost, just a few more inches.

Then the other big difference what made people wonder if she really was the daughter of the famous Morton Rainey. The hairdo. Her dad really messed up with that. Or he just didn't bother at all.

While she could spend over a hour in the bathroom toying with her dark hair (not to the liking of her dad). About a year ago she decided to dye it black from out of no where, which really didn't do much good for her pale and freckled skin. Now that her mom was working late and seeing someone new she wanted to be new as well. Gone was the childish Dinah, pouf here was the new Dinah. All grown up, dark clothes, dark hair. All strong and adulty. If you skipped her sleeping with her stuffed bunny part.

She huffed and starred out side. Like her dad was ever going to believe her. Defiantly when she slapped the salesman in the face. Defiantly after she started to scream about the blood and all.

But she_ did_ see it. She knew that for sure. She even felt it.

She took out her camera and aimed at the Big Ben. She had a huge school report to do now that she was suspended for a few weeks. Not her fault of course, her friends told her to do it. 'It will be fun Dinah, we'll have the whole day off.'

And sure, she with her impulsive mind pulled the fire alarm. And indeed the whole school got a day off. Except her. It was so unfair, she'd done everyone a big favour but she was the one in trouble.

'Stupid thing.' She started to push a few buttons when her camera snapped only black shots. The thing started to make a buzzing sound, snapped on off a few times and finally focused on the Big Ben.

She frowned when she starred at the small screen. Something was wrong. She looked outside, through the rainy window. Outside it was raining hard, she spotted a few people outside walking under there umbrella.

But the little screen showed her the Big Ben surrounded by fog. No rain, but thick fog.

'O crap, did it get wet or something?' The thought of her whole project getting ruined made her moan in dismay. 'C'mon please work. Do it for me, please?!'

She pushed on the off/on button and for a few seconds the screen flinched off. Then it started up and told her it was _loading_. She sighted relieved when the thing flung back on and showed her the truth about London, it always rained.

.-.-.

It was late, to late for a regular human being. But she had that awful project to finish. She'd been in London for about three days and hated it. It was cold, rainy and the people looked at her funny talking with such a American accent. And she hadn't even got time to do some shopping or scampering around. Somehow her dad thought she would set the house on fire or commit suicide and he took her around wherever he needed to go.

So far she'd seen the most boring little shops and had wined and begged to get her to the big thrills. Like the Tower of London or Madame Tussaudes. But no, all she'd seen where stupid little shops and smelly libraries. O and don't forget the inside of his apartment, which wasn't that much of a thrill. It was pretty much empty, except the basic furniture and plain. Cold white colours and her room was his study room. So half of the time she got kicked out of her own room and had to spend it in front of the TV.

He didn't even allowed her _near_ the kitchen. That was a smart thing because she once proved the packing wrong and let the microwave explode only using a pack of popcorn.

Still it would have been a nice thing if he'd done some shopping. There wasn't much more in the house then ships and leftovers.

Her eyes started to twitch, a sign she really needed to get some sleep. But she couldn't, she needed a few seconds good shot of the Big Ben and somehow her program couldn't fix the fog. It sucked because she had almost twenty seconds Big Ben fog and just a few with rain.

For about the tenth she rewind the video but couldn't make much more out of it. She turned it off rubbed through her aching eyes and switched the computer off.

She jumped on the bed that creaked and hadn't been used to sleep on for years, so it felt. It was around three in the morning but she didn't feel ready for sleep yet. It bugged her she didn't get that good shot and that her camera was such a pain in the ass.

She switched it back on and started to record.

"So this is Dee, doing this thing about London. As you can see I'm sleeping in a stuffed room and I'm bored. And also very annoyed by the fact this damn thing can't do anything right."

While she talked she moved her camera from right to left. "Here is the computer, very interesting to know. If you wonder, _no_ this is not the computer the famous Morton Rainey uses. He has a own laptop and I can use this thing from before the Golf War. It takes about fifteen minutes to start up and twenty if you want to use _Words_."

She got a bit too focused on her snap towards the computer that she rolled off the edge of the bed. Accompanied with her camera she tumbled on the wooded floor.

"Auw! This was Dee, falling on her ass. Over and out." She grabbed her camera of the floor and prayed it was still working. She let out a happy yelp when it still did. Then God must hate her because he started to give the same buzzing noise as before. Frowning she started to hit the _off_ button and for a second it snapped off. Then it blinked back on and focused on the wood.

'Who, that's a better shot then the Big Ben.' She thought and let her camera slid over the floor. It was pretty good for a thing that recently bumped onto the floor.

Suddenly cold grabbed her throat and made shivers run through her entire body.

A drip of blood got visible on the tiny screen. Her eyes got huge in shock and quickly she looked to the ground.

Nothing, just a cold floor.

She bit her lip and turned back on the camera. Another drip of blood had joined his friend and the screen started to twitch slightly. 'O my god, what is wrong with this thing?!'

Slowly she started to zoom out. As before blood was leaking on the ground. In a flash she turned her camera to her right wrist. She gasped when she saw a gaping cut in her arm. Blood seeped out of the wound and she started to feel sick. She threw the camera on her bed and run her hand over the bare skin of her wrist.

Nothing, just her wrist.

'What the hell is happening?!' Panicked she peeked onto her bed and starred into the camera. "What is wrong with you?!" She whispered soft and got up. She leaned on the bed for some support and took her camera up.

With her heart beating in her throat she walked into the bathroom and closed the door. She switched the lights on, took a deep breath and reached the camera up.

She could feel how her heart skipped a beat. "This is Dee." She whispered. "And I seemed to be bleeding to death."

She saw herself in her camera via the mirror. Her face was cut open, divers tin lines had been drawn in her face. Close to her eyes and around her mouth. Her skin seemed paler then normal, no wonder. She lifted her free arm up and focussed on the cuts and wounds.

She peeked over the edge of her camera onto the floor and wiggled with her toes. Then she lowered her camera and saw how her toes wiggled in a pool of blood.

"This is Dee." She whispered almost not audible. "And I seemed to be dead."

Slowly she turned her camera around, towards herself and looked into the lens. "But I'm still talking."

.-.-.

**I love to write freaky things. Haven't don that in a long time. I hope you don't mind I stole mister Rainey. He was just the perfect character, he's so cute when he freaks out. And I hope you don't think Dinah is something like a Mary Sue. I'm thrilled to have some feedback. **

**Nuky**


	3. Taking snapshots

**Thanks to all your kind words. **

**Chapter 3) ****Taking snapshots. **

She'd told her dad she felt sick. He asked her what it was and she quickly told him about her period. That made him winch back quicker then ever before. Somehow fathers can't handle the fact that little girls grow up. It made her smile for a good few seconds when he stumbled around and closet the door.

Then her smile disappeared. Quickly she reached for the camera. In silence she watched the whole scene. _"I'm seem to be dead…- But I'm still talking."_ It freaked her out how she stood there in the bathroom with gaping holes in her body. Talking. She'd hoped so badly it was all just a nasty dream, cost by lack of sleep.

But it wasn't, somehow she looked dead. She didn't feel it, but somehow her camera told her she was dead.

Maybe this was just some big joke or something. A fake camera with some strange side effects. But on the other hand how could some cheap thing show you something like that. She zoomed in to the wounds, it looked ten times better then in most of the movies she'd seen.

And she could know, she liked horror movies.

As long as she didn't play a part in it.

It made her wonder if she would be the only one that looked like been attacked by Freddy Kruger. She putted her coat on and jammed her keys into her pocket. She took a umbrella before she closed the door.

.-.-.

London was so big and she hoped she would be able to find the apartment back. London seemed to get more and more depressed every day. The rain, the cold. She wondered how many people committed suicide over that. She would, maybe that was what her camera tried to tell her. Get out before you get depressed!

After a few streets she found enough courage to put the thing back on. Just in case she sat down on a bench.

She switch the thing on. _Loading, loading_. Her screen showed her the bench, her sneakers and the tiles under them. Slowly she went up, the old buildings passed and she even recorded the rainy sky.

For a few minutes she kept filming everything and everyone around her. People gave her funny looks but didn't draw blood. It was just another day in London.

Somehow this discovery didn't easy her worry. Did she go crazy or something? Maybe she was.

Then her camera started to buzz. She looked into the screen and the images started to shudder and shook. Right in front of her the bench started to age. The wood got rip into grooves, moss started to nest into the curves. Her camera switched off.

'Shit!' Frozen she looked at the tiny piece of electronic in her hands. She was really losing it right now. 'C'mon go back on!' Angry she squeezed on the tiny buttons. The thing made a snoozing sound, flashed on and showed her rainy London. A little light started to blink on and off, meaning the batteries where low.

She jumped up and a bit zombie-like she started to walk. A few times she bumped into people, but she kept her eyes burned onto the little screen. For a few minutes she saw nothing more then the ordinary streets, the people that chattered in there cocky accent. She scampered through the park and looked around for clues. Nothing, not even wood going crazy.

Pouting she walked out of the park, rattled with her hand over the fence and get that up for a whole block until she had to cross the street. "Well, fine if your going to bitch about it I just throw you away!" She was about to switch her camera when her heel got stuck between cobble-stones.

She looked at her feet. 'Cobble-stones? Here in big busy London?!' A shiver run over her back. She looked at her screen, seeing nothing more then a busy street, a car drove by a few teens chattered. While her breath started to speed she closed her eyes and lowered her camera.

'Please don't let my gut feeling be right…'

But as ever, it didn't let her down. Her modern rainy London was gone.

It was replaced by sober streets. The asphalt had turned into slippery cobble-stones. The houses had shrunk and looked colder, darker. Something else then rain hung in the air.

Something sinister, colder then rain but not cold enough to be snow. It must be the fog that lingered in the sky and hid in the dark alleys. There where no people around in the street she stood.

'O my gosh, what is happening to me!?' Her lips parted, ready to scream but she was to amazed to let any breath slip. She turned from side to side, made a swirl around and finally let the air in her lung be taken away by the fog. 'This is crazy, absolutely crazy!'

Carefully she pulled her sneaker out of the cobble-grip and started to walk again, holding her camera as if her life depended on it. Which might be very true.

She found it odd there where no people walking through the streets. This place, somehow couldn't be else but London, there must be people living here right? The houses, they seemed cold and dark, they had to be someone's home right? There had to be someone in this gloomy-London able to help her. Right?

She scampered through a long narrow street. If this was a dream, it was a very real one. She could smell a strong sent of piss, rotting trash and smoke. In this dream realm of London she could also feel. The cold that made her bones shiver and her fingertips tingled.

'Why did my mom ever suggested to go visit dad…'

Slowly the fog started to fade away and her vision started to get clearer again. While she wondered to see any sign of life or get a clue wherever she was, her camera started to sputter and buzzer again.

'What is it now!?' The images on the screen where blurry, she whipped over the tiny glass and found out it was something technical. The screen was clean and sow was the lens.

Nothing seemed to broken about the thing, but the images kept being blurry. Even the colours had left the camera. She could see a car drive through a lot crowdie street then she stood in right now. As she moved her camera round, up and down the blurry views showed her pieces of the modern-London. She turned around and lifted her camera towards a large corner-house.

Modern-London showed her same sort of image, only a lot blurrier.

'So where am I? Modern or Gloomy-London?' She lowered her camera and started to walk again, keeping a half eye on the road while she peeked on her camera for further clues.

Halfway the street her camera started to focus. Bit by bit the images started to get clearer.

People started to get a clear face, they smiled and she started to be able to hear there voices.

For the first time in four days she wanted to hug them for there cocky accent. All the sudden she stopped walking as a deep frowned decorated her forehead.

Someone started to walk up to her. Not in Gloomy-London but in her screen. She couldn't get any clear material, the person was a blur, something she'd named a shadow-shot if she wouldn't be in such an awkward position. It was something like a photo-shot, taken while the person was running. The person was blurry and seemed to be shaking, moving. Towards her.

And it wasn't the basic London scamp.

She stopped walking and took a step back as the person wrapped in blurs and shadows looked up. For a spare moment she could have sworn he noticed her.

Suddenly his blurry images was gone. This amazingly made her worry more. 'Where did he go?'

Shivery she started to shot her camera from side to side. A bus drove by, a kid whined about an ice-cream. A couple made out. A man took his dog for a walk. Normal modern London. O, how she started to miss that place. What was so bad about rain anyway? It was just wet and annoying, not life threatening or terrifying. Nothing like the fog, nothing like the darkness that seemed to be lingering all around her.

The light of her battery started to blink violently. That wasn't a good sign. She hoped the thing would hold a few minutes longer, somehow it felt like her lifeline. Her only way back.

'C'mon please, I wanna be there!' She caressed the little screen with her fingertips. "I need to get back there."

Her camera started to hum and buzz on her commend. A few seconds she got a very clear image of Gloomy-London before it started to shatter back into pieces of modern London. It was like little pieces of ice melted together, normal-gloomy-normal-gloomy.

Suddenly the whole image seemed to fit, her camera flashed and took a photo. It was from the corner-house, a blurry darken photo. While she watched it all in shock and surprise she heard a low husky voice: _"Who are you?" _

Then her battery failed her at last, it had been loyal but enough was enough. All the lights, the views it died. All the sudden she was the one wrapped in total darkness.

.-.-.

**So if you want to know what is happening I suggest you review.**

**Nuky**


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